


Down the Rabbit Hole

by AaNnYyCcHhOoUu



Series: Head over Heels, over the Top and down the Rabbit Hole [3]
Category: Shameless (Podcast), Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, Sadness, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 03:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30015390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AaNnYyCcHhOoUu/pseuds/AaNnYyCcHhOoUu
Summary: SUCCESSION OF ONE OFF SHORT OR TINY DRIBBLES.This work is part of the series called 'Head over Heels, Over the Top and down the Rabbit Hole'.The series is composed of 3 works:- 'Head over Heels' which is a succession of short sweet and fluffy pictures of the domestic life of Ian and Mickey- 'Over the top' which is a succession of short over the top stories. If it's too much it belongs there- Down the Rabbit Hole' which is a succession of short sad, ugly, dark dribble full of angst (TW will be indicated for each new story)If you've got any idea that you would like me to put into words, hit me up!twitter: @anychouinsta: @anychouAnd as usual, kudos and comments are the fuel of the writer (and it's green energy so you can use and abuse it!)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Head over Heels, over the Top and down the Rabbit Hole [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208003
Kudos: 5





	Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> !!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> Warning, depression, sadness, depiction of suicidal thoughts, death of major character
> 
> Don't get fooled by the title of the chapter, it is Sadness on top of Dark thoughts... but we all wondered, what if Mickey never came back from Mexico?
> 
> Sorry!

Ian Gallagher is happy.

He has a nice apartment on the west side of Chicago. A simple but nice and cosy apartment, with a balcony and checkers tiles in the kitchen. That’s what decided him and Caleb to take this apartment a few years back when Caleb had proposed they’d find a place that’d be theirs and not just his. Caleb had found a nice space just round the corner for his art too. Really making all the dots connect.

Caleb is nice and understanding with him and his illness. The whole Gallagher clan loves him and reminds Ian all the time what a great choice he had made to settle down with the firefighter.

Ian has a good job, with a good income. He works at the health and safety office of the city of Chicago. His job is to check that the first responders of the city are up to health and safety regulation standards. It’s an interesting job, he gets good monthly wages and still gets to work close to what he loves. But without the thrill that could cause his illness to act up. This is a perfect deal.

He sees his family, often. They have lunch together every Sunday. Caleb shows them his new piece of art. They have nice food, sometimes a barbecue, sometimes a stew. Sometimes it’s at Lip’s, sometimes it’s at Debbie’s, sometimes, it’s at theirs. It’s never at Carl’s, no one would have the courage to clean the place enough to prepared food in his kitchen. Once, Carl proposed to have their Sunday lunch at Mc Donalds. Everyone had laughed very hard at that.

Sometimes Ian and Caleb skip Sunday lunch, to have lunch, or brunch, more exactly with their friends. Their friends are nice. They are friends of Caleb, but they like Ian and they speak with him about very interesting things like art and politics and environment. Sometimes in the week they go to the cinema together or have drinks at a new place they heard of. Ian doesn’t know where they hear about all those places. Not that it matters much because Ian usually doesn’t stay very late. To stay in control of his illness, Ian sticks to a strict routine. Routines give him structure and structure is good. It’s easy. It’s controlled.

Ian visits his nephew and niece as much as possible. They are nice and funny and sweet. Maybe Ian would have liked to have children but with his illness, it really is better that way. He knows that and he’s responsible in that way. It is nice too to be the gentle, quiet uncle.

Ian Gallagher is happy.

Well at least in appearance.

Ian Gallaher has not been happy in a long time. More than a decade. It’s more precise than that even. He remembers exactly when joy and happiness and will to live left his body. He was on a bus, back from the Mexican border. His mind slowly understanding what he had done. What decision he had taken.

Back home, with Monica’s death he understood what his life would be from that point forward. He had denied himself happiness, choosing… well choosing what, that’s the whole question really. Hi family? Would they have been really that unhappy if he’d lived the life he wanted to live? Hi diagnosis? Would he really have gone down the rabbit hole if he was actually happy?

Nonetheless, no point in rummaging the past. He made a decision and he’s living with it, every damn fucking day of his life.

Ian Gallagher often wonders if what he’s doing can be qualified as living. He’s giving the appearance and that’s what counts after all, but he wouldn’t go as far as saying he’s living.

When he let go of Mickey that day at the border, he did it to protect the sense of accomplishment he had worked on so hard. If only he had realised sooner this was nothing more than a smocked screen. A Magician trick played by his own mind to hide the truth from him.

And the truth is that he belongs with Mickey. To Mickey. He understood that on the bus back from the Mexican border, too late.

At that moment, Ian still had hope, he even made a plan. He’d go back home, ask Lip to lend him some cash and get the fuck back to the border, cross (as he should have done) and pray that Mickey would take him back once he’d found him.

But then the text arrived. Monica had died. Despite everything she put him through, Ian felt that he was sad. But he was mostly and unashamedly devastated. Family stick together in these situations. Gallaghers stick together. He couldn’t possibly get there, steal some cash and get the fuck away. Not now, not anymore.

He stayed. For the sake of his family, he stayed. And what was he meant to do, then? Show how fucking gone he was? No, he needed to be there for his family. Be a rock not a dead weight. So, he faked it. All of it. The ‘getting his life back on track’, the ‘falling in love’, ‘the having his life together’. And he found it to be relatively easy after all. With time it became him, even. Or more precisely, a shell of him, the Ian for the outside world. The Ian with the nice boyfriend and the steady job. The Ian that religiously takes his meds and laughs at every joke during Sunday brunches.

On the inside, however, Ian is what he calls it himself, a zombie. Every awake minute not dedicated to faking normalcy is spent on being scared for Mickey, longing for Mickey, crying over ‘what ifs’ and ‘if I had’. It’s tiring, it’s overwhelming. But he keeps the façade on, for the sake of his family. Also, what’s the point it’s not like he’s ever gonna see Mickey again or hear about him. Not after all these years.

It’s fine, really, it’s alright, it’s not like he’s expecting to be happy anyhow. Hasn’t in years.

Sometimes, Ian thinks his life is like a video game. Not the cool parties where you kill it and win everything. No, more like the ones where everything goes wrong, and you just end up killing your character to start over with a better hand. Ian’s thinking about killing his character regularly in hopes of being dealt a better hand in the next life. But then he remembers, he’s been dealt the best hand in this life and he fucked it up, it’s only fair that he lives with the consequences. Anyways, Caleb isn’t into video games, so Ian isn’t either… anymore.

Ian wakes up to sunlight and a soft chuckle. He opens an eye, wincing at the light attacking his barely awake pupils. He turns to the source of the laughter to find Mickey leaning above him smiling.

“Mornin’ sunshine!” There’s sarcasm in these words, and swag, and fun and love. Ian smiles.

“Oh, he smiles! So, you’re not upset anymore that I kicked your ass into next Tuesday at COD, last night?”

“Depends…” Ian says dragging the word for as long as his cranky sleepy voice allows. He knows what it does to Mickey. And, without failure, the reaction is immediate.

“Oh, that’s it huh, hubby’s gonna finally do his wifely duty. I need to kick your ass again for you to throw it in me?”

Ian Laughs. Mickey makes him laugh. Mickey makes him happy.

And Mickey makes him tired. The good kind of tired. The sweaty kind of tired. He keeps him on his toes, even after 10 years as a married couple, with 3 kids and a busy vibrant life, him as a firefighter, Mick as a successful business owner.

Ian pushes on his elbows and his feet. It gives him enough leverage to roll over. Over Mickey. His husband lets him do, he wants him there, on top of him, strong, comforting. Hard, so hard for him.

Ian kisses the man beneath him, his mouth, his jaw, his ear, his neck.

“I love you so fucking much Ian!”

And that’s invariably where Ian wakes up, sweaty and shaky, exiting the bed, the room to avoid waking up Caleb. He’d exit the apartment if he could, the city even. He sits on the couch in the living room, trying to school his breathing so he can go back to the bedroom before his boyfriend notices he’s gone.

Ian is not happy. He’s not been since that last night he spent with Mickey.

He’s not happy at his dull boring job. He goes there, checks stuff, ticks boxes, drinks coffee with dull boring co-workers. Caleb had tried to ask questions about it at the beginning. But Ian thinks maybe it’s hard to be interested in your boyfriend’s job when even he doesn’t give a shit.

Ian’s not happy with his boyfriend. Sex is boring. At least for the rare times when it happens now. Life is boring, uneventful. Well apart when Caleb is cheating on him. It happens more and more often. With a woman, so it doesn’t count. That’s what Caleb says, and Ian is ok with that. It doesn’t matter, the guy is nice enough and his family likes him. Ian is not expecting nor trying to be happy anyhow. So, with him, or someone else, it doesn’t matter much.

Ian’s not happy with his family. He tried to be; he really did. But every second with them is a reminder of what he lost because he chose them. It’s not their fault, and it’s why Ian fakes it. He knows he’s done for, has accepted that. Doesn’t mean he should bring his family down with him.

It’s hard though. The hardest is when he’s with the kids. He can’t control his mind, wandering to a better life, with Mickey, with their kids. But he visits them, that’s part of his Happy Ian persona.

Ian Gallagher is not happy. But he fakes it. Every night he dreams he falls asleep in Mickey’s arms, where he belongs. Every morning he wakes up to his gloomy reality, going by his day until he gets back to bed. Nothing to live for, but enough reasons not to die. Stuck in a life of dull routines and grim future.

Ian is lost in his mind, wanders down the aisle dedicated to canned food at his local supermarket. Caleb had asked for baked beans, so Ian dutifully went to the supermarket to get some baked beans. That’s how their dynamic works. And it’s fine, it’s just fine.

He finds the baked beans, grabs two cans and zombies his way to the cashier.

“Iggy, come on! Keep it together!”

“How the fuck Am I meant to do that, Sand! He was my brother! He’s fuckin’ dead!”

“Coz Terry’s gonna tear you a new one if he sees you lose your shit. Grab a J&B too.”

“Fuck Terry!”

The conversation kept going, without Ian. Ian was lying on the floor, eyes wide open. He could feel himself drifting. He thought he’d kept it together all these years for his family. Maybe in a way he did, but when he heard the conversation in the next aisle, when he heard IT, he put two and two together. Holding it together wasn’t as much for his family as it was his last tether of hope.

Ian Gallagher lost all hopes on a Wednesday afternoon in the canned food aisle of a local supermarket. Hope escaped his body like air a deflating balloon. And he scrambled, falling to the ground while the two cans of baked beans he’d picked up for diner rolled down the aisle. Ian didn’t see other patrons and employees rush to him; he was gone already.

“Your brother is catatonic.”

The ER doctor stated a fact as if Lip knew what it meant exactly. He knew what it meant. Exactly. He didn’t want to, though. Ian’s illness was somewhat unpredictable so that kind of shit was bound to happen he guessed.

Lip really wanted to be surprised that Ian had put him as his emergency contact and not Caleb. He wasn’t.

Lip knew his brother had not been happy for a long time. He’d very very selfishly decided to turn a blind eye, play dumb to Ian’s show. He knew, however; he knew, and he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

He knew the last time Ian had really, truly be happy. He also knew why Ian had resolved to play a charade. It was them, the Gallagher herd that Ian decided to put above his life itself. And he had let him because it had been easier than losing him. A shell of Ian was better than no Ian at all.

What a load of bullshit! A happy Ian, even away, even if he doesn’t see him ever again, is better than this heap of human flesh fading away in a hospital bed.

Two weeks. It takes two weeks for Ian to come back to this hellish life of him. When the hospital calls, Lip drops everything and Uber himself back to the hospital. No small spending would keep him away from his brother. He didn’t inform Caleb. Ian deserves better than this asshole, and he’s gonna make sure he gets what he deserves. He’s gonna help him. He’ll help Ian find Mickey and win him back. Even if that means his brother would go away.

“Hey!”

“Hey! How are you?”

“I… What happened?”

“You collapsed in a supermarket. You’ve… shit… you’ve been catatonic for 13 days.” Ian closes his eyes, only wishing Lip wouldn’t notice the tear that escaped his will. Lip sees it, and the one after that, and the one after.

This only comforts him in his decision.

“Ian, listen, I know.” Lip swallows hard. It’s fucking harder than he’d imagined in his mind. Not the idea of letting his little brother go, but the admission that he’d been a silent witness to his slow demise.

Like a band aid.

“Look, what happened, it made me understand something. You’re not happy Ian. I know.” He sighs. “I’ve known for years. I thought you’d get over it. It was stupid. I want you to be happy, Ian. We all want it.”

Ian looks at his brother. The fog in his mind is dissipating enough to understand what Lip is saying.

“I will help you find him, and…” Ian realises he’s missed a few key information. Somehow, he doesn’t need to hear it from Lip to get what’s happening.

“Lip!”

“We’ll go to Mexico, I’ll come with you. I speak a bit of Spanish, that’ll help.”

“Lip!”

“We’ll find a solution, Ian, I promise, we’ll…”

“Lip, he’s dead!” The clinical definition of catatonic might have applied more accurately to Lip in that exact moment than to Ian in the last couple of weeks. Except maybe for the deep inhale his body finally decides to take. Only because basic survival instinct dictates that the human body needs oxygen to survive.

“It’s too late Lip. He’s gone.”

They remained quiet for a moment. What was there to say anymore?

“I’m tired, Lip.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying. You know. You said you want me to be happy. That’s how I get to be happy now.”

“No! No! No, no, no, Ian, no!” No, not that! Fucking shit, no! Imagining his brother far away was one thing but he couldn’t. He couldn’t what exactly? Accept? Agree? Help? What is it that Ian wants, exactly?

“I’m tired, Lip. All this charade, all this act. I can’t anymore. I wanna be with him, Lip. I wanna be where he is.”

“Ian, please, don’t speak like that. Don’t…”

“Lip, please.” Ian is not asking, he’s saying. His mind is made up. Lip’s mind goes blanc when he realises it. This whole conversation is not Ian asking him his permission, his help. It’s Ian telling him that he’s done. That he’s done enough for him, for them. He’s done what was expected from him. He made sure he’d not put them through anymore shit than what they’d been through as kids. He’d done his part and he’s tired now. They need to let him go.

“Ian, my brother, I love you.”

Ian smiles at him and doesn’t say anymore word. Lip stays a while longer, holds Ian’s hand all the time, doesn’t want to let him go. He knows that maybe he should. That’s what Ian wants, but he can’t. he’ll ask the night team to keep an eye on him when he goes. Surely, tomorrow, he’ll find a solution to talk him out of it.

Ian’s made his mind. As soon as Lip goes for the evening, he gets up and opens the window. He knows he doesn’t have much time. He knows his brother is speaking to the night team right that instant.

He jumps on the windowsill. No hesitation this time. He’s gonna follow Mickey this time.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've got any idea that you would like me to put into words, hit me up!  
> twitter: @anychou  
> insta: @anychou
> 
> And as usual, kudos and comments are the fuel of the writer (and it's green energy so you can use and abuse it!)


End file.
